Siege and Storm (The Shadow and Bone Trilogy, #2)

by Leigh Bardugo

“Good sailors. Good soldiers. Let the sea carry them to safe harbor, and may the Saints receive them on a brighter shore.”

Besides, I like to have powerful enemies. Makes me feel important.” Mal crossed his arms and considered the privateer. “I can’t decide if you’re crazy or stupid.” “I have so many good qualities,” Sturmhond said. “It can be hard to choose.”

“Do you take anything seriously?” “Not if I can help it. Makes life so tedious.”

Almost before I’d formed the call, the light was rushing toward me. It came from every direction, from a million stars, from a sun still hidden below the horizon. It came with relentless speed and furious intent.

Too much, I thought in desperation. And at the same time, all I could think was, More.

“When people say impossible, they usually mean improbable.” With the moonlight gleaming off the lenses of his goggles and his greatcoat billowing around him, he looked like a complete madman.

“You heard me. My enemies understood brutality. And so did my crew. After it was over, I drank with my men and divvied up the spoils. Then I went back to my cabin, vomited up the very fine dinner my steward had prepared, and cried myself to sleep. But that was the day I became a real privateer, and that was the day Sturmhond was born.”

The less you say, the more weight your words will carry. Don’t argue. Never deign to deny. Meet insults with laughter.

I looked back over my shoulder. Nikolai still hovered in the doorway. He wore full military dress, a pale blue sash across his chest. The light from the parlor glinted off his medals and gilded the edges of his golden hair. He was playing the role of the polished prince tonight. But standing there, he just looked like a lonely boy who didn’t want to return to a party by himself.

No matter what I said, we both knew the hard truth. We do our best. We try. And usually, it makes no difference at all.